


Prayers For Night Thoughts

by 13Kat13



Series: These Rotten Scriptures [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mafia Katsuki Yuuri, Mafia Victor Nikiforov, Russian Mafia, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 12:05:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17121029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13Kat13/pseuds/13Kat13
Summary: Victor’s long legs carry him over the ground slightly faster for this short distance, Yuuri’s stamina better for the marathon rather than the sprint. Victor launches himself off the dock, sailing through the air for a moment, before he passes through the opening in the side of the boat where the gang plank was. Victor rolls and comes up shooting, taking down the two men who’re standing near the spot he landed. Then Yuuri too, is sailing through the air. He lands, rolls and launches himself up, his knife coming up into the throat of the man who just ran around the corner.“Once this is over,” Victor says as they run and fire at the same time, “I am going to fuck you until you scream, you beautiful terror.”[Part four in the Mafia AU. How the Katsuki-Nikiforov bratva family got their youngest member.]





	Prayers For Night Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for posting out of order, this one comes before the last I posted in the series. I'm not entirely happy with it tbh, but not sure what else to do to it.
> 
> Thank you for all comments, kudos and bookmarks!

Yuuri knows Victor is itching to start a family. He would be annoyed that it’s the influence of those that want the pakhan to have an heir, but Yuuri knows Victor’s desire goes much deeper than that. It’s something to do with Victor not having been close to his father and losing his mother young, along with Victor’s infinite ability to love.

 

Victor doesn’t pressure him, and when Yuuri hits twenty-six, he agrees he’d like a child.

 

They choose a surrogate on their own, without the influence of the bratva. Diana is a pretty girl, friendly and “happy to have such an attractive and friendly couple’s child.” Her blonde hair and clear skin are nice, but Yuuri regrets that if it was he whose seed ended up taking, they won’t have Victor’s beauty. If that’s the case they’ll just switch it up next time.

 

The surrogacy is expensive of course, but the IVF takes fairly quickly, Diana calling them to tell them the happy news.

 

Victor is ecstatic the entire nine months of the pregnancy, and sometimes Yuuri feels very sad that he can’t be the one to give Victor this. That is until Victor finds him crying in the bathroom in the middle of the night.

 

Victor doesn’t touch him at first, knowing that sometimes when Yuuri’s sad he doesn’t want to be touched. When he asks what’s wrong Yuuri is so choked up he can’t speak, all his anxieties rising up, telling him he is inadequate, never enough for Victor.

 

Yuuri chokes out a noise that’s so ugly he nearly laughs.

 

“Oh, honey, no,” Victor says, voice cracked through with pain for Yuuri.

 

He does touch him then. Victor folds him into his arms and rocks Yuuri gently. And Yuuri sobs great ugly tears as the dark, sharp edges of his mind tear into him.

 

“I…” he gasps. “I should be… the one… to give you… a child.”

 

Which is mad, because Victor chose him, and Yuuri has plenty of things going for him. But the pressure of the bratva, the thought that the pakhan should have his child born of his partner, those women paraded before Victor when their relationship wasn’t public, it all gets messed up in Yuuri’s head.

 

And Victor squeezes him closer, cradles Yuuri’s head to his chest. He tells him that he’ll never want anyone but Yuuri, that children feel so very secondary to being with Yuuri, that having some is a bonus and something Victor wants with him, but doesn’t care how it happens.

 

Yuuri calms down eventually, feeling drained and oddly numb as he always does after crying. They get back into bed together, Yuuri shivering from having sat on the bathroom floor in just his underwear.

 

It’s better in the morning. Victor always showers him with attention, but he’s extra affectionate today, cancels their meetings and takes Yuuri for a spa day, buying him flowers and kissing him like he needs it more than air. And Yuuri feels loved. Cherished. And sort of alright again.

 

Yakov throws a party when they find out they’re having a son. Large parts of the bratva are still very old fashioned, and a son is excellent news to them. Yuuri and Victor don’t care either way, but were glad their firstborn won’t struggle to gain the loyalty of the traditionalists.

 

At least they think so, until Hoshi is born with Yuuri’s features, can only be his son when Diana is so blonde and pale. They laugh, and Victor is thrilled.

 

“Fuck them,” he says, tears streaming down his face as he holds his son. “I always wanted him to look like you anyway.”

 

Yuuri sobs ugly tears when he holds his son for the first time. Hoshi does look rather a lot like him, his dominant genes making Hoshi’s hair dark, his eyes big and brown. He has Yuuri’s chubby cheeks too.

 

“Why didn’t you just use Victor’s… stuff?” Yakov asks when they come home, looking awkward as hell but also rather soft as he gazes at the little bundle in Yuuri’s arms. “He would’ve had the unswerving loyalty of the bratva. That was the whole point of using a surrogate rather than adopting.”

 

“I was not about to exclude Yuuri from this process, Yakov,” Victor replies, and his eyes flash with warning. “And I’ll remind you to mind who you’re talking to.”

 

Yakov rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything more. He may be Victor’s godfather, but Victor is still the pakhan, so Yakov knows when to stop.

 

Yuri Plisetsky is obviously thrilled by Hoshi, but has to work to keep his usual disinterested scowl in place when he meets him.

 

“Looks just like you, Katsudon,” he says, eyeing the boy who’s currently being held by Otabek, who turns out to be very good with children. “Poor sod.”

 

Hoshi grabs Otabek’s finger in his little fist and gazes up at him with a serious expression. Otabek looks back down with the exact same expression. Yuuri grins.

 

“Do you want to hold him, Yura?” Otabek asks then, looking up at the blonde.

 

Yuri shuffles forward, looking unsure. The scowl he fought so hard to maintain melts away when Hoshi places a hand on Yuri’s chin and gurgles happily.

 

“I will decapitate anyone who hurts you,” Yuri tells Hoshi seriously.

 

“Less murder talk around the baby please, Yura,” Victor says, not looking up from his baby book.

 

Mari and Minako fly in to visit. Mari’s mouth is a wobbly line when she holds her nephew, and Yuuri hasn’t seen her cry since they were kids and she broke her arm falling out a tree. But her eyes are wet as she gazes down at Hoshi.

 

Minako outright bawls and then declares she’ll throw them the best party to celebrate, seeing as she couldn’t make it to the baby shower, which had been an odd affair anyway, what with Diana being the one carrying the child.

 

The bratva are so happy to have a male heir that even those who have reservations about their partnership with the Yakuza don’t care that Mari and Minako are there. Phichit sobs too when he holds Hoshi, he and Chris named joint godfathers.

 

Hoshi becomes Insta famous in a matter of hours as Phichit takes photo after photo with his adorable little godson.

 

Hoshi is well behaved for the party. Whenever he gets fussy he just needs to be handed back to Yuuri or Victor and he settles. He’s a bright, curious child, gazing with interest at Makkachin as the poodle bounces around below him.

 

When Makkachin settles and lies down, Victor sits Hoshi so he’s lying back between the dogs legs, resting on her stomach. Everyone coos at how cute it is as Phichit takes numerous photos and mutters something about this gaining him so many followers.

 

Hoshi drops off on Yuuri’s shoulder at one point, done with the festivities and wonderfully able to sleep through anything, just like Yuuri. Victor coos at this and takes a photo, Hoshi’s little thumb stuck in his mouth as he sleeps. Yuuri’s smiling bright as the sun in the photo.

 

* * *

 

There are indeed some grumblings from the bratva that Hoshi is clearly Yuuri’s son, but Victor has such a zero tolerance policy for any shit spoken about his family, that no one dares say anything to them directly. Besides, Yuuri has already proven himself capable, so when the time comes Yuuri’s not worried Hoshi won’t be accepted. He’ll have been groomed into the perfect pakhan, and all shall be loyal.

 

Privately, Victor and Yuuri have agreed that if their son wants nothing to do with the bratva, then he shall of course be allowed to do whatever makes him happy.

 

Makkachin is very fond of the boy, and acts as a sort of nanny, even though Victor and Yuuri have actually hired one. Alessia is a cheerful woman a couple of years younger than Yuuri, studying in Saint Petersburg though originally from Italy. She’s surprisingly not fussed about the criminal side of the Katsuki-Nikiforov family.

 

Victor and Yuuri still question her thoroughly. They also can’t help calling her several times when they leave Hoshi with her to go out together.

 

Hoshi becoming mobile is captured on Phichit’s Instagram, his little arms dragging him across the hardwood floors of the manor house in a sort of army crawl. He’s very quick, and Victor and Yuuri have to trap him in with couch cushions and the like to stop him getting away from them.

 

Hoshi, although well behaved, is of course still a baby. And as such he cries during the night. Victor and Yuuri are constantly getting up at all hours at the moment, as they refuse to let their boy be comforted by a nanny when he’s crying. He settles quickest when it’s one of them anyway, and usually ends up getting carried back to their bed to sleep between them, which seems to do the trick.

 

Victor’s glowing with fatherhood. Yuuri enjoys it, but he’s a little tired to be honest, as much as he loves his son. Victor however, no matter how much sleep he loses, only seems to gain energy from having his little family around him. He spoils the boy of course. Yuuri, trying to instill some good values in Hoshi, tries for more control. But it’s very hard when he’s so cute and when he laughs and makes grabby hands at something.

 

One afternoon, Yuuri comes home to find Victor passed out on their bed with Hoshi asleep on his chest. It’s far too adorable to be allowed. Victor’s hand is on Hoshi’s back and he’s in his more casual day off clothes, the jeans and sweater giving him a softness that his suits lack. Hoshi is in a baby blue onesie with a hood that has little bear ears on it.

 

Yuuri smiles and leans forward to kiss his husband on the forehead and scoop Hoshi up.

 

“Yuuri?” Victor mumbles, coming to at having Hoshi taken from him.

 

“Here, love,” Yuuri murmurs, placing Hoshi against his own chest, whose eyes open briefly before he drops straight back off, Yuuri’s scent and feel familiar to him.

 

“You okay?” Victor asks, yawning wide.

 

“Yes I’m fine,” Yuuri replies, reaching out to brush his fingers along Victor’s cheekbone, making him turn to nuzzle at Yuuri’s hand. “Just thought I’d make sure Hoshi gets his afternoon feed.”

 

“Oh…”

 

Victor’s already dropping back off, face and body relaxing with the knowledge that his family is safe.

 

Yuuri smiles and leaves him to sleep. Hoshi wakes as Yuuri’s taking the milk out of the microwave, no doubt sensing food. Diana gave them milk for the first couple of months, but it was pretty inconvenient, and as Hoshi had at least gotten some of the all important immunity that breastmilk encouraged, they swapped to formula.

 

“Hello, baby boy,” Yuuri coos as Hoshi yawns wide with his tiny mouth.

 

Hoshi blinks a few times then laughs and places his chubby little hands on Yuuri’s cheeks, gazing up at him with adoration.

 

“Yes, hello,” Yuuri laughs, and Hoshi beams in response.

 

Makkachin finds them as Yuuri’s shifting Hoshi into position to take his milk. Hoshi gets briefly distracted by the dog, shrieking and laughing as he makes grabby hands at Makkachin, who jumps up to place her paws on Yuuri’s stomach so she can nose at the baby. But Hoshi likes food too much, and it doesn’t take much to get him latched to the bottle instead, though his eyes stay on Makkachin.

 

Yuuri has to be careful Hoshi doesn’t gobble his milk up too quickly and make himself sick, as he seems to have Yuuri’s appetite as well as his looks. Once Hoshi’s been burped, Yuuri carries him through to the nursery.

 

The carpet is plush in here, the corners all padded with protection, so Hoshi’s escape attempts don’t get him hurt.

 

Makkachin follows them in, and when Yuuri places Hoshi down, the boy immediately crawls over to her and reaches out to grab at her fur. Makkachin is a saint honestly, as Hoshi has a tendency to tug.

 

Victor finds them when Yuuri’s doing the aeroplane game, Hoshi shrieking with delight as he gets held above Yuuri, who’s lying on his back.

 

Yuuri can see Victor watching them, leant against the doorframe, and makes Hoshi soar through the air.

 

“Uh oh,” Yuuri says, stopping so Hoshi stares at him with wide eyed anticipation. “Turbulence!”

 

He wiggles Hoshi around, making him dip and dive so Hoshi shrieks with delight.

 

“And what’s this?” Victor joins in, coming over to stand over them. “An enemy aircraft? Oh no!”

 

Victor swoops and grabs Hoshi, twirling him around in the air so Hoshi screams and laughs.

 

“People will think we’re scaring him,” Yuuri laughs as Hoshi lets out a piercing shriek as he flies through the air.

 

“Nah, they’ve seen how soft you are with him.”

 

“I’m soft? Mr Our-Son-Must-Have-Every-Toy-In-The-Store.”

 

“Slander and lies,” Victor says, bringing Hoshi in so he can kiss him all over.

 

All in all, it’s very good. Doesn’t mean that it’s a little frustrating when Yuuri’s split open on Victor’s cock in the middle of the night and the baby monitor goes off, Hoshi’s cries making them both pause.

 

“Ugh,” Yuuri groans, lifting himself up off Victor’s cock, and climbing off the bed to fetch a robe.

 

“I know we’re being good parents, but sometimes I wish we’d let Alessia take care of it when he cries at night,” Victor says, falling back against the pillows from where he’d half risen.

 

“He settles quickest when he gets to come into our bed,” Yuuri points out, tying his robe shut as he goes to the door.

 

“I know.”

 

Hoshi is lying on his back, wailing at the ceiling. When he catches sight of Yuuri, his wails increase in pitch, clearly saying “Where on earth have you been? Come and pick me up at once.”

 

Yuuri goes and sweeps Hoshi up into his arms, making the boy hiccup and gradually go quiet as Yuuri holds him against his chest and bounces him, cooing nonsense comfort words.

 

“There we go, baby boy,” Yuuri coos, patting Hoshi’s back as he lets out half hearted little noises, mostly quiet now.

 

He goes silent as Yuuri carries him into his and Victor’s room. Victor opens his eyes as Yuuri shuts the door, and holds up the corner of the duvet. Yuuri slips in with Hoshi, laying the boy down between them. Hoshi immediately plants the hand closest to Victor over his father’s mouth. Victor blows a raspberry against the hand and Hoshi laughs in delight.

 

“Don’t get him too excited to sleep, Vitya,” Yuuri scolds gently, settling down and placing a protective hand on Hoshi’s tummy.

 

“Nah, he’s a good boy, aren’t you, Hoshi?”

 

Hoshi just blows a spit bubble at this, and then yawns.

 

“Oh, sleepy boy,” Victor coos, and nuzzles in close.

 

Yuuri smiles, and soon after the three of them have drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, Alessia will take Hoshi out for the day so Yuuri and Victor can have some alone time.

 

It’s one of those days, and Victor is rooting through their wardrobe for something to wear to lunch when Yuuri finds him.

 

Yuuri’s favourite thing is quickly becoming wearing things that make Victor’s jaw hit the floor. Like now, he’s in thigh high black stockings, his favourite black Louboutin heels, a pair of lacy black panties with subtle gold embroidery, and a matching garter belt. He’s also wearing a plain black corset, which cinches his already tiny waist in and exaggerates the curve of his hips. He had to do his makeup and hair quickly so Victor, who was in the bedroom next door to the en suite he was getting ready in, didn’t start wondering what was taking him so long. It looks good though, liquid black liner and a gold eyeshadow to match the underwear. His lips are also a deep, blood red.

 

“I think I’ll just wear a sweater if we’re not going out,” Victor is saying, his back to the wardrobe door as he roots through the racks, still wearing his bathrobe he put on after his shower. “Though I had wanted to wear something special for you today.”

 

“Something special like this?” Yuuri asks, his hand on the doorframe and his legs in a wide stance, hip cocked to the side, so he looks strong, powerful.

 

Victor turns, and it’s like that time with the red negligee on their first Valentines together. Yuuri almost laughs at the sight of Victor’s expression. He looks dumbstruck, the sweater he’s holding sliding to the floor.

 

Yuuri grins, and saunters over to him, the slow roll of his hips making Victor’s eyes flick down and then back up, looking slightly like he’s going to faint.

 

“This time,” Yuuri says, grabbing Victor by the lapel of the robe and yanking him down to his knees, before straightening to place a heel on Victor’s collarbone. “You are going to have to win the control.”

 

“Oh?” Victor asks shakily, breathless as he takes in Yuuri above him.

 

“Yes,” Yuuri returns, trailing his fingers up his hip, his chest, his neck. “You’ll have to break me if you want it.”

 

Victor’s whole body shakes with a tremor, and Yuuri’s smiles like a shark. He removes his foot from Victor’s collarbone, and turns, walking back towards the bedroom, feeling Victor’s heavy gaze on him.

 

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, Vityenka,” he calls back over his shoulder.

 

He makes it halfway to the bed before Victor collides with him.

 

“Bunny,” he growls into Yuuri’s ear, making Yuuri’s knees weak with it as his head automatically falls back against Victor’s shoulder, unconsciously submissive. “I am going to wreck you.”

 

“Yeah?” Yuuri says, though he can already feel his control slipping, can feel how Victor’s lost the robe, his hot, hard body flush against Yuuri’s scantily clad skin.

 

“Yes,” Victor hisses, and he grabs Yuuri, spins him and tosses him over his shoulder.

 

Yuuri yelps in surprise, before biting his lip at how hot it is to be manhandled like this. He struggles half heartedly, actually loving it. Victor carries him to the bed, and tosses him down upon it unceremoniously. Yuuri lands with a huff, limbs sprawled so he looks like a discarded rag doll. Yuuri gathers himself to look up at Victor, who’s standing over him in just his briefs, his hardness visible through the thin material. Yuuri bites his lip.

 

“You want to be broken, bunny?” Victor says, and the gravel in his voice makes Yuuri tremble with anticipation. “Well I’ll ruin you for anyone else. You’ll only be able to beg for me after I’m done with you.”

 

“I’ll only ever want you anyway,” Yuuri promises him, and sees Victor’s eyes soften at this reply.

 

But he quickly snaps back into character, striding to the side table and wrenching the drawer open to grab the lube stashed in there. Then he returns to the foot of the bed, grabs Yuuri’s ankles, and tugs him down the mattress so Yuuri gasps. Victor smoothes his hands up Yuuri’s stocking clad legs, bending them and pushing them up.

 

“Look at you…” he sighs, drinking in the sight of Yuuri, so sluttily dressed with his legs spread for Victor. Yuuri shivers.

 

Then Victor kneels, his thumbs going to the little grooves where Yuuri’s thighs join his crotch. It’s a weak spot for Yuuri, his legs falling further apart automatically. Victor smirks and skirts his thumbs down over the scalloped edge of the panties, his attention rapt as Yuuri bites his lip, his cock hardening.

 

“I like these,” Victor purrs, eyes on the lacy underwear.

 

“Bought them… specially…” Yuuri manages to say, feeling dizzy with how turned on he is.

 

“Such a good boy for me.”

 

The praise has Yuuri shaking, and then he gasps as Victor tugs the panties to the side, probably stretching them, and then leans in to swipe a long line from his hole to his balls. Yuuri howls.

 

“Mmm such a pretty voice,” Victor hums, before leaning in and laying into Yuuri’s hole like it’s the finest delicacy in the world.

 

Yuuri feels like he’s going to shake apart from the force of his tremors. His heeled feet are twitching where they’re held in the air and he doesn’t seem to be able to control the noises he’s making.

 

Victor’s tongue is hot and hard inside him. He pushes in insistently, then laps around the rim, before trailing his tongue up over Yuuri’s perineum, only to return to his hole. He keeps driving Yuuri right up to the edge, rubbing a hand over his still covered cock as he works his entrance, before backing off so Yuuri whines and nearly kicks him.

 

The fourth time it happens Yuuri nearly screams. Yuuri tilts his head up and glares down at Victor. Victor laughs.

 

“You did say I’d have to break you, bunny,” he points out, standing to loom over Yuuri as his hand continues to rub at his dick. “Are you not desperate for my cock now?”

 

“I’m always desperate for your cock, next question,” Yuuri snaps, grabbing Victor by the arm and tugging him down over him.

 

Victor catches himself with a hand on the mattress, then grins at Yuuri. He’s beautiful, eyes bright with laughter, fringe hanging forward as he gazes down at Yuuri, looking so utterly in love Yuuri has to say an internal prayer.

 

“Enough to beg?”

 

Yuuri lets out a huff and tries to reach for Victor’s cock himself.

 

“Ah ah,” Victor scolds, catching Yuuri’s hands and pinning them down either side of his head.

 

He holds Yuuri down, who’s struggling but not really. They’re quite evenly matched, so Victor would know about it if Yuuri was really putting up a fight.

 

Victor lowers his hips and grinds his own erection against Yuuri’s, making Yuuri moan and go lax.

 

“Good boy,” Victor says, still rolling his hips down as Yuuri’s legs come around him, ankles hooking to keep him in place. “Are you going to be a good boy while I finger you?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Victor smacks his thigh, making Yuuri let out a sharp gasp that dissolves into a moan.

 

“I _said,”_ Victor growls, rolling his hips down particularly well, “are you going to be a good boy while I finger you?”

 

“Yes, yes, fuck, I’ll be good,” Yuuri babbles, just needing something inside him.

 

“Good.”

 

Then the lube’s being snapped open and before Yuuri knows what’s happening, Victor got two fingers inside him. Yuuri wails, but Victor doesn’t let up. He fucks his fingers in and out of Yuuri so he’s a writhing panting mess.

 

Victor hovers over him as he works, his eyes on Yuuri’s face, studying each little flicker that passes over it as Yuuri moans and shakes.

 

“So beautiful, moya zvezda,” Victor rumbles, his voice like the threat of winter. “See how pretty you come apart for me. God, think what you’ll look like when you’re split open on my cock.”

 

“Yes, yes, fuck, give it to me, Vitya,” Yuuri begs, losing all intention of putting up a fight. “Please…”

 

“Fuck, you break so pretty.”

 

Then Victor’s fingers are gone, and he’s tugging off his boxers as Yuuri blinks dazedly up at him. Victor slicks up his cock, his eyes on Yuuri as he bites his lip. Yuuri arches his back prettily, smooths a hand down the corset over his stomach, rubs himself through the panties stained with precome.

 

“God,” Victor mutters, descending upon him instantly.

 

He flips Yuuri over onto his front and yanks him up onto all fours, and Yuuri moans at being handled so roughly. Victor unlaces the corset in sharp tugs until it falls away, which is honestly a relief. It was quite tight. Yuuri’s back automatically curves to present himself, and then Victor’s hands are squeezing his cheeks, moving them apart. He lays a sharp smack on one. Yuuri gasps, then trembles as his head falls forward.

 

“Shame about these,” Victor says, casual, almost like he’s commenting on the weather as he pinches Yuuri’s panties.

 

“Vitya, don’t you da —”

 

The fabric rips, cutting Yuuri off as he gasps, the lace marking his skin as it’s torn off him.

 

“Those were Agent Provocateur!” Yuuri snaps, glaring at Victor over his shoulder.

 

Victor arches an eyebrow at him. Then smacks his butt again. Yuuri sucks in a breath as his toes curl.

 

“If you’re worried about that then you’re obviously not broken enough, bunny.”

 

Then Victor slams his cock in. And Yuuri screams.

 

Victor barely gives him time to adjust, he just holds Yuuri’s hips in place and fucks him hard and fast. Their skin slaps together to make the lewdest sounds, joining in with their moans of pleasure.

 

And Yuuri’s so full. Stretched to the point that it’s painful but so very good as well. His hands are gripping handfuls of the sheets, as though he’ll fly apart without their anchor. His back is arched perfectly, and he can feel Victor’s hands pulling his cheeks apart, knows his eyes are on where his cock is disappearing repeatedly into Yuuri’s pink and stretched hole.

 

“I want to fucking tear you in half,” Victor growls, grabbing a handful of Yuuri’s butt before giving it another sharp smack.

 

Yuuri gasps and moans. He’s unable to do anything else but take it, held in place by Victor as he pounds into him with that gorgeous fat cock.

 

“Do you know what you look like when you’re like this?” Victor asks, one hand smoothing up the arch of Yuuri’s spine. “Your ass pushed out and so desperate for my cock that you’ll fuck your pride in the process. God, you’re a mess, bunny.”

 

Yuuri moans, his breathing short and his mouth slack as Victor splits him again and again. The hard pressure of Victor inside him is exquisite. Like someone designed Yuuri’s perfect sex toy and made it into a man. But Yuuri’s the one who feels like a toy at the moment. He feels used and abused and so wonderfully good.

 

“I want to do this all the time,” Victor goes on, his accent thick and low with his arousal, hot enough that the sound alone nearly brings Yuuri off. “Do you know how hard it is when you’re holding Hoshi and all I want to do is bend you over the nearest flat surface and fuck you until you cry?”

 

Yuuri wails at this, Victor nailing his prostate with such perfect procision that he barely remembers anything beyond that thick length inside him.

 

“I love that I was the first one that ever fucked your pretty little virgin hole.”

 

The reminder and how possessive Victor is has Yuuri’s arms giving out. Victor lets him collapse, his backside still in the air as Victor fucks him into next week.

 

“You were so good, bunny,” Victor goes on as Yuuri bites the sheets, lipstick smearing onto cotton, barely managing to muffle his obscene noises. “The most dangerous man in Japan, all wide eyed innocence. Looking at me like I hung the stars, and so very needy for me. It was the best gift I ever could have asked for. I knew I’d marry you right then.”

 

“S-since then?” Yuuri’s able to ask even though his brain feels like scrambled eggs.

 

“Of course, moya zvezda.”

 

Then Victor’s pulling out so Yuuri gives a plaintive little cry at the loss, but Victor hushes him softly and rolls him onto his back. He’s much more gentle when he touches Yuuri this time. He helps him shift further up the bed, then settles between his legs, feeding his cock back into Yuuri’s greedy hole. Then he’s smoothing Yuuri’s slightly sweaty hair back from his forehead where it’s fallen out of its slicked back style.

 

“I knew I wanted you the moment I saw you,” Victor tells him as he rolls his hips in slow thrusts, gazing into Yuuri’s eyes with such utter devotion that Yuuri wants to cry. “But in that bedroom, having you tell me where you wanted to go if you could just up and travel the world, I fell in love. And then you on that bed, looking up at me like that, the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen... I knew in then that I’d grow old with you if I had to burn the world to make it happen.”

 

“Vitya,” Yuuri chokes out, tears rising to his eyes.

 

“Shhh… shhh, bunny, I’ve got you.”

 

The words are spoken into Yuuri’s neck as Victor leans forward to hold him close, his hips still fucking Yuuri in those agonisingly slow thrusts.

 

Victor likes it slow like this the best. Yuuri likes it too, he just sometimes likes the rough more. And Victor is wonderfully heavy over Yuuri, and he never feels safer than when his arms are around him.

 

Victor rolls his hips with such fluid motions it’s like they’re dancing. And Yuuri kicks off his heels so he can run his feet up Victor’s thighs, over his backside, coming to lock around his hips so Victor’s held down just like Yuuri is.

 

Victor kisses him then, deep and tender as he cradles Yuuri’s head in his hands. Yuuri’s fingers tighten on his back, never wanting to let go, anything to just stay as close as possible to this man.

 

And it does feel as though they’re melting together, bodies slick with the effort of their love making, mouths coming together, then apart, then together, sharing breaths and whispering words of reverence.

 

“Vitya…” Yuuri sighs, because he can feel it growing in him almost lazily with the slow rhythm and the way Victor’s stomach is pressing against his cock.

 

“It’s okay, bunny,” Victor assures him, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Just let it come slow.”

 

And so Victor fucks him right up to the edge with painfully slow rolls of his hips. Yuuri’s letting out little cries now, which Victor drinks down greedily, returning only praise. Everything’s so much more intense when they go slow, it’s like Yuuri can feel everything more, is more aware of Victor opening him up repeatedly, just how thick, hard and long he is. The way their bodies touch, tangle, feed off each other.

 

Then Victor kisses him just right as his stomach continues to rub against Yuuri’s cock, his prostate getting what feels like a slow sensual massage, and Yuuri’s unspooling.

 

He comes with a slow intensity. Like lava spreading over fertile earth, each fuck forward of Victor’s hips making it break over him, suffocating in its intensity.

 

Yuuri wails, his blunt nails dragging down Victor’s shoulder blades as his body arches up into his husband.

 

“Yuuri…” Victor says, reverent as he watches Yuuri shatter.

 

He fucks Yuuri through it, making sure he’s properly satisfied before he thrusts in extra deep and hard, following Yuuri over the edge so he fills Yuuri up in a whole new way. Yuuri groans as he feels it spill inside him. Marked, claimed.

 

Victor grinds deep, moaning out what sounds like Yuuri’s name against his lips.

 

They drift down together. Victor is collapsed on Yuuri, heavy but good. Yuuri draws dazed patterns on his back as they get their breath back.

 

“Fuck,” Victor says.

 

“Indeed.”

 

Then Victor leans up and kisses him, slipping out as he does. Yuuri trembles as he feels Victor spill out of him. Victor grins against his mouth.

 

“You’re a mess.”

 

“Mmm.”

 

Yuuri likes the idea. Ruined so pretty for Victor. Yuuri would build empires for him, just to tear them apart so they can watch the chaos together. Victor makes him mad with it, and he wonders if they’re normal, so hopelessly gone on each other even though it’s been seven years since their eyes first met across that ballroom.

 

Yuuri decides he doesn’t care.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri and Victor are just getting out of the shower when they get the call. Victor answers, and his content, satisfied expression turns sour in a millisecond. Yuuri can hear Alessia’s tone even if he can’t really hear her words, and she sounds hysterical.

 

“Alessia, Alessia, calm down,” Victor orders, before Yuuri snatches the phone from him and jabs the speaker button.

 

“Hoshi, they took Hoshi,” Alessia’s sobbing, and the floor is falling away beneath Yuuri’s feet. There’s a roaring in his ears and thumping in his head and he feels like he’s going to be sick.

 

And then he’s calm. It snaps into place in a way he’s forced it to on so many other missions. And he’s _furious._

 

“Thank you, Alessia,” Yuuri says calmly, as Victor’s hands clench and unclench at his sides, his jaw tight. “Are all the men dead?” Because of course they had bodyguards go with them.

 

“Y-yes,” Alessia says, and then breaks down sobbing again.

 

“Okay,” Yuuri says, turning to stride to the wardrobe. “You’re to come home immediately. Don’t call anyone else, don’t talk to anybody. You are to go _now,_ Alessia.”

 

“Okay,” Alessia whispers, and then the line goes dead.

 

Victor’s following him, and the pair of them suit up wordlessly. All black, close fitting turtleneck and jeans, bulletproof vests, gun holsters, Yuuri’s tanto knives strapped to his thighs, Victor strapping on a mean looking knife that’s almost the length of Yuuri’s forearm.

 

Yuuri grabs a smoke grenade from their weapons collection and Victor grabs one too, both of them foregoing real grenades as they won’t risk it with Hoshi in the vicinity. They also take a machine gun each, and Victor grabs a sniper rifle as a last minute thought. They slip their earpieces into place.

 

Then they’re moving, combat boots striking the floor as they stride out into the hall. Moments later and they’re tearing out of the garage in a bulletproof SUV.

 

Yuuri calls Phichit.

 

“Yuuri! You’ll never guess who I slept with —”

 

“Phichit,” Yuuri says, and the tone of his voice makes Phichit shut up instantly.

 

“What is it?”

 

“They’ve taken Hoshi,” Yuuri says. “Find him.”

 

“Fuck,” Phichit says, stunned, then his professional demeanor is snapping back into place. “Okay, where was he taken from?”

 

“The Aquarium on Ulitsa Marata”

 

And Yuuri’s heart clenches at the thought of Hoshi’s wide eyes as he looks up at the fish. He’s always loved the aquarium. Fish was his first word, though it sounds more like feeshh. Then Tou, for Tousan, which is what he calls Yuuri, then Pa for Victor, then Makka. That’s as far as he’s got at this stage and Yuuri has to shut his eyes as he thinks how those could be the only words he ever learns.

 

But no. If he lets himself fall apart now he won’t be able to help Victor get their son back. And as Yuuri’s the one who’s best with knives and they don’t want too many bullets flying around, Yuuri needs to keep it together.

 

Phichit mutters to himself as he works. And then —

 

“Got them. They’re at the docks, warehouse 3A. Hurry they have boats there, if they get out into international waters —”

 

“That won’t happen,” Victor growls, making a sharp turn so they’re now heading in the direction of the docks. “Keep an eye on them Phichit. Call us if there’s any developments.”

 

“Okay. And Victor —”

 

“I know, Phichit,” Victor cuts across him again. “I’ll protect them both with my life.”

 

Then the call cuts off and they’re speeding straight through a red light.

 

* * *

 

The docks are a buzz of activity. Men hurry back and forth, some of them working their usual, innocent jobs, others lingering menacingly, clearly here for darker deeds.

 

Yuuri and Victor have left the car up by the road, and are now crouched behind some storage containers. They’ve called for backup, but they won’t wait until it arrives.

 

“Eight guards that I can see,” Victor says, looking through the scope of his sniper rifle, his machine gun hanging off a strap over his arm and his magnums holstered. “And Phichit said he saw an additional seven on the cameras he hacked. Far more security than they usually have at this dock.”

 

“I am going to personally cut Carla’s liver out and feed it to her,” Yuuri says, his eyes on the South American mob members.

 

Yuuri has never been particularly interested in taking on the drug cartels of South America. They know how to tangle, but Yuuri will decapitate anyone who even hints at wanting to harm his family.

 

“What does Carla think she’s playing at?” Victor wonders aloud. “Why’s she moving on Saint Petersburg? She has a better chance in America.”

 

“I do not know or care,” Yuuri says, and then he stands. “Take out the three that’re clear of the warehouse, we can’t have it going straight through, that metal isn’t thick. I can take the other five.”

 

Yuuri gives Victor a moment to get into position, then he darts out from behind the container. He runs low to the ground, managing to disappear behind more containers and crates. When his knife slams up into the throat of the first man, none of them are even aware he’s there.

 

Victor’s shot fells a man ahead of him while Yuuri darts between the little group gathered near the wall of the warehouse. He’s vaguely aware of two more men falling by Victor’s hand as he cuts down the others faster than they can react.

 

There are shouts as the dock workers realise what’s going on. They take off in the other direction while more men come around the sides of the warehouse, guns ready. Victor’s sniper shots fell several of them while Yuuri darts between those that’re nearest.

 

Then Victor’s beside him and they’re slipping into the warehouse together.

 

There are shouts from inside, orders for men to get into position yelled in Spanish. And then, very faintly, Yuuri hears the cry of a baby. He freezes and Victor does too, his sharp jaw locking as he looks up.

 

“Go,” Victor says, and cocks his machine gun.

 

Yuuri takes off as Victor hurls a smoke grenade and lays down suppressing fire.

 

Yuuri flies over the floor, his knives slashing at men who crumple in his path before they know what’s happened. There’s someone with a big gun aiming towards where Victor is sheltered, the _rat tat tat tat_ of the shots harmonising with the percussion of falling shell casings. Yuuri takes a running jump up onto a crate, sprints along it, before he launches himself off the other side, his knives coming down into the neck juncture of the man on the mounted machine gun. The man folds like a puppet with his strings cut and Yuuri’s already turning to the next man.

 

He can hear Hoshi’s cries clearly now, knows he’s close by. Yuuri fells several more men before he throws himself into a corridor. His gun is up and ready, but there’s no one down here.

 

The corridor is dark, dimly lit by a red light that creates many shadows. Yuuri slips along it, following the sound of his son, his heartbeat loud in his ears. He can still hear shots behind him, which must mean Victor’s okay.

 

Yuuri reaches a corner in the corridor, readies his gun, and then throws himself out. Still no one. Yuuri frowns. He doesn’t like this.

 

The crying is coming from beyond a closed door up ahead. Yuuri approaches cautiously, gun in one hand, tanto knife in the other.

 

He throws the door open.

 

The office beyond is empty, the crying coming from a radio sat on the desk, wailing out into the room. Yuuri’s eyes dart away from it, taking in the packs of C4 stacked around the desk. He turns, and runs.

 

“Vitya!” Yuuri shouts into his radio, sprinting up the corridor. “Get out! It’s a trap, you have to get out!”

 

“Yuuri, what —?”

 

“Go!”

 

The explosion hits just as Yuuri reaches the open warehouse. He just has time to throw himself into an open storage container and slam the doors closed when the fire bursts out into the room.

 

The heat sears the air of the storage container as Yuuri hunkers down, the wall and part of the ceiling crumpling inwards with the force of the explosion. The fire rages for a moment, then fades.

 

Yuuri waits until it’s over, then stands and goes to the door. He has to kick it open as it’s buckled and stuck in place.

 

“Vitya?!”

 

Yuuri’s shout echoes through the warehouse, which is still alight in places. Blackened bodies litter the floor, either already taken down by Yuuri and Victor or caught unawares by their boss’ scheme. There’s ash and soot where once there were wooden storage containers, only the metal structures surviving.

 

Yuuri feels sick with worry. If he’s lost Victor, if he has to live on without him if only for Hoshi’s sake, Yuuri will tear the world apart, and then himself.

 

“Yuuri?!”

 

Yuuri wants to cry with relief. His feet crunch over the floor as he sprints towards Victor’s voice.

 

Victor hurries around a JCB, its windows smashed, and gives a strangled yell when he sees Yuuri.

 

“Yuuri!”

 

They collide in a mess of arms and sobbing. Victor’s shaking as he clutches Yuuri to him.

 

“I thought — I thought —”

 

“I know, love, I know,” Yuuri reassures him, cupping the back of Victor’s head as Victor buries his face in Yuuri’s neck.

 

Then Victor’s moving back to look at Yuuri’s face, drink him in. He cups Yuuri’s cheeks in his hands, smoothing his thumbs over Yuuri’s cheekbones as he just stares at him.

 

“It’s okay,” Yuuri tells him, gripping his wrists. “I’m okay.”

 

Victor nods but can’t stifle the little sob as his face crumples.

 

“Let’s go get our boy, yes?” Yuuri prompts him, and Victor’s nodding, grabbing Yuuri’s hand as he turns.

 

“He can’t be far,” Yuuri says as they go back out onto the tarmac. “The radio was still picking him up.”

 

“The boats,” Victor says, and then he’s firing his machine gun, the staccato rhythm of the shots harmonising with the sound of sirens in the distance.

 

There’s even more men than there were in the warehouse, apparently responding to orders or seeing the explosion. And Yuuri’s unloading his gun, but his hope is quickly fading, and oh god they’ve got Hoshi, he just wants to find him, just wants his _boy._

 

“Eat shit, wank stains!”

 

A fresh wave of bullets smacks into the oncoming hoard, men crumpling to the floor like so many paper dolls.

 

Yuri Plisetsky fires a gun like bullets are insults; sharp, cutting, and precise. The tiger’s lip is drawn back in a snarl as he pumps bullet after bullet into the opposing mob, his blond hair whipping out behind him as he runs, all long legs and adolescent fury.

 

Then Otabek is there. The boom of his shotgun is like the toll of a judge’s gavel, a death sentence handed out to anyone who hurts those he cares about. The Kazakh’s brow is low in anger, which is more emotion than Yuuri’s ever seen from him.

 

“Yuuri! Victor!”

 

Chris picks off men almost lazily, strolling across to them with one arm extended towards the South Americans, unloading bullets like they’re calling cards.

 

“Chris!” Victor returns, relief breaking across his face.

 

A flash of red catches Yuuri’s eye, and he turns to see Mila throwing herself into the fray, wielding double machetes and a manic grin. There’s more of their people behind her, Georgi taking down two men with one shot as his hollow tip blows out the back of the first’s head into the second’s.

 

“Hoshi, he’s on the container ship, Chris,” Victor explains, as they crouch behind crates and continue to fire upon the opposing mob, who’ve taken up similar positions. “It could go at any minute!”

 

“Go, we’ve got you covered,” Chris says, his bullets slamming into the calf of a man not fully covered by his hiding spot. The man cries out and falls into view and Yuuri shoots him in the head.

 

Then he and Victor are running, dodging behind crates and firing on the men who spot them. Just before they reach it, the container ship stars to move.

 

“Vitya!”

 

“I know!”

 

Victor’s long legs carry him over the ground slightly faster for this short distance, Yuuri’s stamina better for the marathon rather than the sprint. Victor launches himself off the dock, sailing through the air for a moment, before he passes through the opening in the side of the boat where the gang plank was. Victor rolls and comes up shooting, taking down the two men who’re standing near the spot he landed. Then Yuuri too, is sailing through the air. He lands, rolls and launches himself up, his knife coming up into the throat of the man who just ran around the corner.

 

“Once this is over,” Victor says as they run and fire at the same time, “I am going to fuck you until you scream, you beautiful terror.”

 

Yuuri laughs, the feeling good after so much worry.

 

“You’ll have to catch me first!” he calls out, and darts off between the shipping containers to find their son.

 

The bowels of the ship, once they make it there, are dark and dingy. They creep through carefully, wary of another trap.

 

They only meet a few men below deck. They’re dispatched quickly and soundlessly, Yuuri using his tanto knives, Victor that terrifying blade that cleaves through one man’s neck as though it were made of butter.

 

Yuuri can hear the crying again, faint over the rumble of the engines. He darts towards it, Victor hot on his tail. They reach a narrow corridor, the crying coming from beyond a door at the end. Yuuri grimaces, thinking of the last corridor he was in like this.

 

They slip up it, and Yuuri reaches back and squeezes Victor’s hand just as they reach the door. Victor squeezes him back.

 

Yuuri throws the door open.

 

“Don’t move!”

 

Hoshi’s little face is screwed up and red with the effort of bawling his lungs out. He’s in the arms of a woman.

 

“Carla,” Yuuri growls.

 

Carla grins at him. She’s a pretty woman of about thirty. Her dark, thick hair is swept over one shoulder, her full lips painted red. She’s in an elegant white, silk shirt and sharp suit pants. In her hand is a .45 calibre pistol, the muzzle held against Hoshi’s temple.

 

At the sight of his fathers, Hoshi’s quiets slightly, now just letting out unsure little grumbles.

 

“It’s okay, baby boy,” Yuuri assures him, meets Hoshi’s big, tear filled eyes as the boy fusses, giving him a smile.

 

Hoshi still doesn’t look to sure, letting out a petulant little cry before falling silent again.

 

“Put your weapons down,” Carla orders, pressing the gun more insistently into Hoshi’s temple.

 

Victor practically growls. He goes to raise his gun, but Yuuri catches his arm.

 

“Alright,” Yuuri says, holding the other hand out. “We’re putting down our weapons.”

 

Victor stares at him, looking outraged. But Yuuri shoots him a look, and together they put their knives, the guns in their holsters, the machine guns, and Victor’s sniper rifle.

 

“That’s all you’ve got?” Carla asks, eyeing Yuuri suspiciously.

 

“My tanto knives are usually all I need,” he replies.

 

A slow smile spreads across Carla’s face.

 

“To think they great Katsuki-Nikiforov dynasty would be brought down by a bastard child.”

 

“I will feed your unworthy tongue to your mother and make her watch when I set you on fire,” Victor spits, and the cold venom in his voice speaks only promises.

 

“Will you?” Carla asks, lazy, cocking an eyebrow at Victor. “Seems to me like I’ve got you stuck. That man was right, Saint Petersburg is easy to take once you know the weak spots.”

 

Then Carla’s gun hand goes to turn on them, but then Yuuri’s moving before she can react. He snatches the gun tucked in the back waistband of his jeans, releases the safety as he swings it round, and fires a single shot into Carla’s head. And Victor’s darting forward as Carla falls, catching Hoshi, who’s screaming again, startled by the loud noise.

 

Victor gathers Hoshi to his chest, cradling the squalling boy close as he bends his head to press his lips to Hoshi’s head. Yuuri comes forward and Hoshi starts to settle in Victor’s hold. Yuuri gathers them both up in his arms.

 

They’re safe. They’re all safe. Yuuri could faint with relief.

 

They go to the engine room and hold the driver at gunpoint until he directs the ship back to the shore. When they reach it, Yuri Plisetsky comes aboard and storms up to them.

 

“Thank fuck,” Yuri says, and reaches out to place a shaking hand on Hoshi’s back. “I’m going on his security detail, who the fuck were those useless deadweights you had him with before?”

 

“Don’t speak ill of the dead, Yura,” Victor says, but he seems more concerned with hugging Hoshi close.

 

They disembark from the ship and Yuuri asks Victor to let him hold Hoshi for a bit. Victor seems reluctant to let go, but allows it. All their closest friends gather around them, Chris, Mila, and Otabek joining Yuri to see Hoshi.

 

Hoshi blinks at them, looking a little sleepy after his ordeal. Indeed when they’re back in the car, Hoshi drops off to sleep in his carseat, which Yuuri is sitting vigilantly next to rather than up in front with Victor.

 

When they get back to the manor, the three of them cuddle up in the television room with lots of blankets and mugs of hot chocolate. Yuri joins them, looking grouchy, as though he doesn’t like being seen to be concerned.

 

Hoshi sleeps on, lying on Yuuri’s chest as he lays with his head in Victor’s lap, one of Victor’s hands on Hoshi’s back, the other stroking Yuuri’s hair.

 

Alessia bursts in pretty quickly, a concerned woman following her, who had apparently been treating the head wound Alessia has. Alessia bursts into tears at the sight of Hoshi asleep and safe on Yuuri’s chest.

 

“It’s okay,” Yuri tells her, displaying a surprising amount of tenderness as he gets up to guide her out of the room so her crying won’t wake the baby. “How about we go have a cup of tea?”

 

“He’s growing up,” Victor muses, his eyes on the door where Yuri disappeared with Alessia.

 

“They all have to at some stage,” Yuuri replies, playing with the wispy little hairs at the nape of Hoshi’s neck.

 

“Aw, our baby boy is going to be an adult one day,” Victor pouts, looking displeased by this.

 

“Yes, but then he’ll be able to have proper conversations with us,” Yuuri points out, smiling up at his husband. “My mum always said she was sad that we had to grow up, but then having us as funny, independent, clever adults was the best exchange.”

 

“That’s fair,” Victor agrees, and smiles at Hoshi’s sleeping face with so much love Yuuri wants desperately to kiss him. He resists, as he doesn’t want to wake Hoshi by moving.

 

They cancel most of their meetings in the following week, feeling the need to be close to their son. At least one of them is always with him.

 

Phichit flies in to see that his godson is safe and happy, descending upon the boy with lots of hugs, kisses, and presents. Minako follows, and Yuuri thinks he’s about to get a scolding for endangering her boy, but then she closes her mouth, clearly deciding Yuuri and Victor feel bad enough about the whole thing without her help. Instead she spoils Hoshi silly and sends lots of videos to Mari, who’s anxious to see her nephew safe, though she can’t visit at the moment with things being how they are among the Yakuza.

 

After four months, Victor and Yuuri feel safe enough to let Hoshi go out with Alessia without them again, though they’re still jumpy. Yuri is indeed on Hoshi’s security detail, stalking along close to Alessia’s side as she pushes the buggie. Otabek also joins them sometimes, though he still has work within the bratva that pulls him away.

 

Mila’s also there. She usually works Yuuri’s security, but goes with his son on Yuuri’s command.

 

“You have to be safe too, bunny,” Victor pouts when Yuuri sends her away.

 

“I can take down thirty men with nothing but a paperclip, Vitya,” Yuuri points out. “Hoshi cried this morning because his sock fell off.”

 

“Okay,” Victor sighs.

 

They finally work out who’s going where, and all settles back into the usual routine. Though now Victor and Yuuri are hunting down the man that Carla spoke of. They suspect he’s an inside man, who perhaps disagrees with the Japanese alliance and Yuuri’s son being next in line to the throne, rather than a true heir of Victor’s.

 

It takes a while, the man is good, but eventually they track him down. Igor Egorov, a man Victor had trusted for years, but had grown distant with, knowing he didn’t approve of his marriage to Yuuri.

 

Victor, having not gotten to fulfill his promise to Carla, instead cuts out Ivan’s tongue and sets him on fire. He doesn’t make Ivan’s mother eat the tongue or watch as “Tanya’s a lovely woman, I don’t want her to witness her disgrace of a son’s death.”

 

Hoshi turns one with much fanfare and fuss. Yuuri manages to get kidnapped himself during the time between, but as he proves to Victor, he doesn’t need bodyguards and fights his way out. It’s bloody.

 

Phichit livestreams Hoshi’s birthday party to all his social medias, capturing Hoshi’s enormous white and blue birthday cake, the mountain of presents, and Hoshi getting spooked by a balloon drifting towards him.

 

Hoshi mostly enjoys the wrapping paper more than the presents, scrunching it up in his tiny fists and flapping it around as he sits on the floor in a little dungaree set, which makes Phichit burst into tears with how cute it is.

 

Victor and Yuuri show a surprising amount of restraint in their gift giving, getting Hoshi a plastic toy kitchen. Hoshi pulls himself up and bangs his hands on the plastic hob, letting out a shriek of delight.

 

“Oh my gosh he’s going to be a little cook like you were, Yuuri,” Phichit says, cooing at Hoshi as he films him.

 

Yuuri thinks they’ve done well not to spoil their son, until Victor gets out a diamond encrusted pacifier.

 

“Vitya!” Yuuri scolds as Hoshi squeals and grabs the sparkly thing.

 

“What?” Victor says innocently, looking very dashing in a pair of slim fit jeans and a mink sweater. “Our boy deserves the best.”

 

“That he does,” Phichit says. “Which is why you’ll all need to come outside for my gift.”

 

Phichit’s gift, as it turns out, is a pony.

 

“For fu — heaven’s sake, Phich,” Yuuri says, exasperated as Phichit takes his son from him so he can go sit Hoshi on the little horse, which is a beautiful chestnut colour.

 

“Look at him!” Phichit sobs, holding Hoshi on the horse’s back, the boy seeming mildly interested in the proceedings but not overly fussed as he sucks on his fist. “Oh my god, I’m going to get him a tiny cowboy outfit too!”

 

Yuuri just rolls his eyes and gives up.

 

Yuri of course buys Hoshi a stuffed tiger, which Hoshi wastes no time chewing on the ear of.

 

Hoshi’s exhausted by the end of the party, fast asleep in Victor’s arms as he chats to Yakov. Yakov gets this complicated expression on his face everytime he looks at Hoshi, like he’s fighting the urge to coo and remain steely and cold. This doesn’t last when Chris comes to tell Victor the caterers have a question and Victor hands Hoshi to Yakov. The man’s face instantly melts, and Yuri cackles and takes a photo of Yakov smiling fondly down at the still sleeping baby.

 

Even Yuuri’s mother is able to Skype in and say hi, cooing over Hoshi as he wakes up and watches her on the screen with bright, interested eyes.

 

Hoshi comes straight into Victor and Yuuri’s bed that night, tired out and still with glitter on his cheek despite his bath. Damn Phichit.

 

Yuuri watches his husband and baby sleep for a long while after they drop off, Victor’s hand protectively on Hoshi’s tummy and Hoshi’s face tilted towards his Papa’s warmth.

 

Yuuri smiles, gives them each a kiss, and snuggles in to slip off to sleep himself.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I will never stop putting Yuuri in lingerie.
> 
> I want to make it clear that when Yuuri gets anxious about not being the pregnant one, he has nothing wrong with surrogacy and does not think gay men are less for needing a surrogate or adoption. There’s just an awful lot of pressure from the bratva and it’s hard on his anxiety.


End file.
